


the sovereign nose (of your arrogant face)

by pashmina



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pashmina/pseuds/pashmina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy always looks like he wants to say something. Whether Raven lets him is an entirely different matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sovereign nose (of your arrogant face)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kwritten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/gifts).



> Prompt: The 100  
> Bellamy/Raven  
> I am only requesting this ship for this fandom because it is the only one that matters to me at the moment. Please, please, please no background Bellamy/Clarke or implied romantic Clarke on Bellamy's part. (ot3 is fine if you want to go there) And please, please, please no Wick. Go wild with the Richard Siken poetry or deep, heavy angst with this one. I love me a cranky and unapologetic Raven. I feel very strongly about a demi-Bellamy. and also devoted to a aro-Raven Would prefer something that is on the Ground, please no Ark-AUs. Something about leadership or rebellion. Something about them burning slow and long. I love their Sloppy, Sloppy sex. I love them pretending that it isn't sloppy and emotional. I also really enjoy established-relationship domesticity? So anything about Bellamy trying to deal with living with a girl on her period on the Ground. Or Raven figuring out what the fuck to do when her birth control runs out. Dealing with a simple illness that gets out of control because: Ground. Being quasi-parents to the other Delinquents.

* * *

  


Bellamy always looks like he wants to say something.

It is a bizarre realization to have when his face is buried between her legs, and he's skillfully using his teeth to keep her on edge.

"Faster," she rasps out, though he would have done so even if she hadn't said the word. He's also very good at picking up at physical cues, like the heel of her good leg pressing insistently into his spine. He does something with his tongue she can't explain and suddenly that electric rush that makes her feel weightless courses through her (weightless like floating outside the Ark did). She looks down and he looks back up at her with something like a smile in the lines of his mouth.

He looks like he's about to say something.

"Guess shooter knows how to find a _target_."

He snorts, and then-

"That's cute."

* * *

  
The thing is, Raven doesn't always want to hear what Bellamy has to say. She likes short sentences, the sort of bluntness that can ache like a sore muscle. But, right now, watching him argue with the adults (she's not quite sure when the adults became _them_ and the delinquents became _us_ \-- probably after that stinging slap), she can't help but admire his passionate rhetoric. Just a little. Passion, she understands. Passion can be shown.

And with him, he's always showing how much he _cares_ , even when he's not saying it. Even despite him saying the opposite. She sees it in the way he watches his sister, the way his fist clenches with every bruise he sees. And yet he'll only roll his eyes and tell her to be careful because he sees how proud she is of the bruises and scars she's earned. He's good at being an older brother. He's good at being family, she realizes with a slight pang, when he sits and gently massages feeling into her sore leg.

Show not tell, that's always the sort of girl she's been.

* * *

  
As it turns out, while she's been watching Bellamy, Octavia's been watching her.

"You like him. A lot."

And because Raven is the prickly, contrary sort, she responds with an unnecessary amount of snark.

"Not your business. Not all of us fall in love via kidnapping and hostage situations."

"No," Octavia hums, entirely nonplussed. "If that were the case, it'd be you and Murphy sharing a tent."

She's so startled she laughs, and Octavia grins wickedly.

" _Never_. I'd rather die."

"You almost did."

"We _all_ almost did. But we didn't. We're here."

She can't help the earnestness that creeps into her voice. Because too often she could have almost died. She _almost_ got floated. She _almost_ disintegrated into a pile of ash entering the Earth's atmosphere. Bellamy _almost_ killed her. Murphy _almost_ killed her. And yet she was still here.

"Yeah," Octavia nods. And all traces of youthful arrogance are gone from her face. Only that warrior underneath remained. "We are."

* * *

  
"We're sharing a tent." It sounds more like a command than the suggestion it's meant to be, but if Bellamy hasn't figured out by now that Raven is the sort of woman who takes what she wants and gives what she can, then clearly he doesn't deserve to share her tent in the first place.

"Okay," he says. "Does this mean we're--"

He trails off, searching for the right word, and Raven can't blame him. The concept of two people being involved was a complicated situation on the Ark. Same sex couples, romantic or otherwise were highly encouraged for the simple reason of slowing population growth. Typically living quarters for heterosexual couples wasn't allowed until they Committed to each other.

Raven wasn't sure they were Committing.

"It's easier. And comfortable. That's all."

"Okay," he says again, and he looks like he wants to say something more, so she kisses him instead.

* * *

  
She's not sure when it became a thing for Octavia and her to sit together at the end of the day, but she can't say she minds. The younger Blake is bold, brash always ready to fight, and Raven sees herself in her. She wonders if that makes her a narcissist.

"We're not meant for politics," the girl says this time. "You and me. We can't fight with words."

"We _won't_ fight with words," Raven disagrees. "They're messy and easy to manipulate. But yeah, _fuck_ politics."

She hated it on the Ark, she hates it even more here. She's not stupid - she knows when Bellamy is trying to get her opinion on matters, trying to get a feel for whether or not she thinks he's doing the right thing, but it's her least favorite sort of pillow talk. She prefers his damn Greek myths to politics, and really, that's saying a lot.

"Sometimes, I think we'd get more done if we didn't have a council. Like the Grounders."

Raven snorts.

"How the hell would we pick one person to make the right choices? Clarke couldn't make them. The Delinquents don't trust any of the adults and none of the adults trust any of us." She doesn't add that she wouldn't want to put that sort of burden on anyone.

"Bellamy could," Octavia persists. Whether it is out of family loyalty, Raven can't tell. "He's grown. He'e learned."

"He couldn't," Raven responds. "He cares too much."

* * *

  
They're huddled together under a blanket. Her weak leg is pleasantly warm, pressed in between his legs, and his breath provides a moist heat to her fingers. She's watching his mouth carefully, and when she sees the tell tale curve and parting that signals his need to speak, she interrupts.

"Why do you need to talk so much?"

He's startled but recovers quickly. There's a moment of quiet thought and then he speaks slowly. Carefully.

"We couldn't speak before." He pauses. "My mom and I. We had to protect Octavia."

"Oh." Because really, that explains everything.

"Why are you so afraid of talking?"

She shrugs, as much as she can wrapped in his embrace.

"People lie," she starts, then her voice drops to a whisper. "It's worse when they tell the truth."

"Want me to lie to you?"

And because she's avoided his words so long, because she's _curious_ , she nods.

"I don't like this. I wish we were back in the Ark. I wish we'd never met."

She pushes him from her, a toothy smile gracing her features, and pretends she hasn't placed her hand on his heart.

"You are such a sentimental _sap._ "

Bellamy looks like he's about to say something.

She doesn't try to stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out a bit more gen than I originally intended, but I hope you enjoyed a peek of what they could be. It sort of relates to the original prompt? Ish? 
> 
>  
> 
> Title taken from "I crave" by Pablo Neruda bc it is so very Braven.


End file.
